


Missing the Void and Other Perpetual Disappointments

by revision



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crack, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated teen for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-07 02:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/revision/pseuds/revision
Summary: The invasion really couldn’t have waited until the weekend, apparently. The one time she had actually finished and printed out a paper to hand in on time, and aliens had to go and ruin the impressive feat by deciding that it was “Fuck Manhattan O’clock” again. The period before the paper was due. Fuck the weekend—they really couldn’t have waited forty-five fucking minutes.





	Missing the Void and Other Perpetual Disappointments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rumioki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumioki/gifts).



> So @rumioki and I were talking, and when I heard this idea, I thought: "Hey, this is hilarious," and also, "I don't want to work on my serious fics!"  
> Thus this monstrosity was born. I wasn't going to post it, but here I am.  
> Updates are whenever, and this is definitely chock-ful-o-mistakes, all of which are my fault.  
> I hate that this is literally the first thing I'm posting on my account.  
> But! I know rumi and her friends'll get a kick out of this, so oh well. :")

The invasion really couldn’t have waited until the weekend, apparently. The  _ one _ time she had actually finished and printed out a paper to hand in on time, and  _ aliens _ had to go and ruin the impressive feat by deciding that it was “Fuck Manhattan O’clock” again. The period before the paper was due. Fuck the weekend—they really couldn’t have waited forty-five fucking minutes.

Now the paper was probably going to end up crumpled, burnt, and sodding wet by the end of the evacuation. Probably along with her bag.

Sure, she could just print out another copy, but it was the  _ principle _ of the fact that she had gotten to school  _ early _ to use the school printer so that she could hand in something that didn’t look like it was  printed by a machine that should have been put down four years ago. Not to mention that she had held her cat’s paws this morning in a makeshift prayer circle and offered a blood sacrifice to the printer gods to make sure that the machines in the library were actually working that day.

Her cat wasn’t the offering, though. She was more than willing to offer her own goddamned blood for the printers to be working. No toner issues, no paper jams, no empty cartridges—just three pages, double-sided, black ink.

She had gotten what she wanted—with relative ease, actually—but now there was  _ this _ garbage.

Aliens.

Or wait, was it really aliens?

Or was it actually printer gods looking to reap their offered payment for oh-so-graciously allowing the machines to work for once?

Were they coming to kill her?

_ Oh thank sweet baby Jesus. _

But no, life never went her way, and there were no printer gods in the world, and there was still an alien invasion going on, and she  _ very _ much would not get the chance to hand in her paper.

Great.

The school’s policy on alien and monster invasions was to get all the grumbling teens out of the building and home as quickly as possible, which meant that a one Lynn Song had to haul her bag onto her back and follow the stream of kids filing out the doors, shepherded along by the deans. They were told not to mill around the entrances of the school, but everyone did so anyways, only moving along when they met up with their friends,  _ definitely _ not planning on going home.

Lynn did the same when she finally shuffled her way out of the school into blinding daylight—something that was a rare sight to her these days. It was downright hateful. Three years of commuting during sunrise and sunset, she was no longer a creature of the light. Clearly, her burning retinas agreed.

In a piss-poor attempt to protect her eyes, Lynn ducked behind a column at the front entrance of the school for what little shade it provided. Just in time to see her friend squeezing through the continuous crowd to make their way over to the column.

Lynn offered a nod and a grin that was more of a grimace.

Her friend returned with a wince of his own and turned to wait for their other friends beside her.

Ages later, their rag-tag group of five were all successfully crowded under the shade of the column, all watching the one member that actually had the MTA app scrolling through her phone.

“Everything’s delayed.” She announced.

“Of course it is,” one of them sighed.

“I can’t go home anyways,” Lynn said, “My mom would kill me if I came home this early. I’d tell her it was an alien invasion and she’d go ‘ _ Again!?’ _ , one-thousand-percent think that I was lying, and make me turn my ass right back around and go back to school.”

“Same,” MTA girl—Olivia—agreed.

“Pret?”

The group all shared glances at each other, and nodded.

“Pret.”


End file.
